A Frivolous Obsession
by mango soda
Summary: His obvious obsession with his girl aside, Itachi has other strange fetishes, too. ItaSaku


**A Frivolous Obsession**

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_His obvious obsession with his girl aside, Itachi has other strange fetishes, too._

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Disclaimer: Naruto doesn't belong to me. Otherwise dear Itachi would still be alive. (sobs)

Warning: overuse of parentheses, italics and outrageous Itachi ooc-ness.

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_i._

.

Day offs and lazy afternoons find Itachi and Sakura on the bed, dozing, daydreaming, just laying there and slacking off. He would be there, head lying on her stomach, arms tight around her waist while she plays with his unfairly silky, smooth locks, and their legs are tangled, the sheets in knots, as they bask in rare moments of unguarded relaxation.

She thinks it is strange, but gets used to it, his affectionate fixation of her stomach. It is something he likes to do when they are alone and he feels at ease. She reminds him of a cat, when he presses his cheek onto her skin, and subtly, _very subtly_ rubs his skin against hers.

And she smiles, tenderly, and wishes days like these, with him, would be longer and more frequent.

_ii._

She jokes, once, of his utterly comical fascination with her tummy, saying how she feels like her face should just be down there, because really, it's like he prefers spending time with it more than having to look at her face, instead. It's not like she's _that_ ugly, or her features too sickening, her eyes too green, her hair too—

He proceeds to disagree with her assumptions as he snogs the hell out of her.

_iii._

.

She gasps and pants and whines delectably when he shows her his newly acquired skills using his lips, teeth, and tongue.

He likes the sounds she makes, the way she tightens her hold on his hair (and thank god she is still in her right mind not to use her mountain-wrecking strength), her body writhing and squirming underneath him, the sensitivity of her nerves and her moaning his name in that charming way only she can pull off.

He finds out that she has a dimple on the side of her stomach, and she is ticklish right there.

He never wanted anything more than to explore her all night long.

_iv._

.

It is her first time seeing him in his moment of weakness, and she realizes that he, too, can hurt and be troubled _just like them_. He is just as human as she is.

She does not know what to do. It hurts her, seeing him like this. She wants to end his pain, but she cannot.

She takes tentative, timid steps towards him. He is sitting on the floor, his arm resting on an upright knee, and his forehead against his palm, his fingers clutching his hair _too tight,_ his expression _too dark_.

And right then and there she wants him to share his pain with her. She does not want him to hurt anymore. he has had more than his fair share of troubles, anguish and sorrow, even for a great individual like him. And in a split-second resolution she would, no matter what, help him relieve himself of the great big burden on his shoulders. And she turns it into a promise, to herself, to him.

He does not make any move that shows he acknowledges her, does not even notice her, maybe.

She tenderly smoothes his hair down. He still does not move, and this is where she knows she must take the initiative. She takes hold of his hands, and pries his fingers away from clutching his hair, tugs, and adds extra amount of chakra, because he just – wouldn't – budge. It would've been amusing, in any other day, this game of pull between them.

Finally, he relents. He knows he cannot fight her any longer, not when she has put her mind into worming herself into his life (and in the future he secretly thanks the gods up there because if not for her single-mindedness he would never have felt this feeling of happiness and completion).

She twines her fingers with his and lets him know, silently, in actions, that she was there, for him, and that she was there, and will always be.

He tightens his hold on her, as if he was afraid of falling, and she was his only anchor to the earth, and he shakes, so violently that she almost thinks that he's having some sort of seizure.

Then, abruptly, he lets go. Her insides twist miserably, but only for a moment because he embraces her, pulling her to him slowly. She steps into his bubble and they are so close they feel like _one_. He buries his head against her midsection, and she strokes his head softly. His hold on her is surprisingly loose, considering his tense form.

He sighs deeply later, and inhales the fresh scent that is all her and he knows that he would never anymore feel inadequate, unworthy, disgusting and despicable all his life, so long as she was there.

_v._

.

Itachi secretly fantasizes of the _to be_s, the _if_s, and the future while he lovingly traces abstract patterns around her belly button.

After his naughty thoughts have taken a whole new turn, he imagines her form in a whole new glow, her eyes lovingly twinkling, her state, very so vulnerable (because then he'd have the chance to show her that, he too, is capable of caring, as well), and the newcomer residing in his (he wishes, hopes) soon-to-be wife's womb. (And in the corners of his mind, images of black-haired, green-eyed children are frolicking.)

Unlike most, he likes the idea of her bearing the symbol of _them, _even at such an early stage of their life. But he thinks it is just right, considering how much he just wants her and he knows that he will never, ever look at another woman again so, really, they should just do it and—

But he remembers that he should ask her hand first, fend off hordes of angry, overprotective friends, and fanclubs, face the wrath of her father (and civilian or not, _he_ has the upper hand, and so it is a delicate process) and father-figure (who most certainly won't give his blessing so easily), and arrange meetings in the central Uchiha compound because he just knows the inevitable debates will come day and night, even if he—heck all of them—knew just who would emerge as the victorious winner, and he must do all this because_ she_ would kill _him_ if he ever proposes the idea of taking her chastity before marriage.

It is a big ruckus and an entire waste of time, in his opinion, but it is alright because it is her after all, and he wouldn't have it any other way. Not at all.

.

.

.

And if he gets to keep fetish, then, much better.


End file.
